Green and Yellow Carrots
by Ryuuen Kurai
Summary: A collection of KuroBasu drabbles and oneshots, mostly to feature Midorima/Kise with some Aomine/Momoi, Kagami/Kuroko and other random pairings thrown in.
1. Walking

"Carry me, Midorimacchi," Kise demands with a pout, daring Midorima to protest.

Midorima glares at him, but wisely doesn't comment, simply bends down, extends his arms, raises a brow when Kise doesn't do anything for almost a minute but lie there looking shocked.

"What?" Midorima asks, cursing whatever fate brought them to this moment. _Almost._

"Nothing," Kise says, blushing inspite of himself, painfully extracts himself from the covers of the bed (Midorima's bed, his mind helpfully supplies), is thankful for the lack of sarcastic comments at his efforts.

Because if Midorima had even breathed one single word on his inability to walk, Kise wouldn't have known what he could have done. After all, this was entirely that damn, perverted megane's fault anyway, damn it!


	2. Midorimisms

"Hey, Midorimacchi. I'm done for the day. Dinner later? I want steak! （*´▽｀*）"

Kise hums a little under his breath, some catchy little pop-tune about blues and whites and dress prints that his stylist had been listening to earlier, taps the little button on his phone that says "send" with a giddy flourish. He was, after all, in a pretty good mood today. He'd finished his magazine photoshoot and interview earlier than expected and wasn't expected to be back for basketball practice, his manager having been able to work a deal out with his coach. Which was why he'd have been crazy not to take this opportunity to spend some time with his… well, it had never been really clear to Kise what he and Midorima were _exactly_, but then it never really bothered him as much as the fact that Midorima still calls him "Kise" and not "Ryouta" or "Ryou" or some other form of nickname. Though, now that Kise thinks about it, Midorima does seem to like addressing Kise as _omae_ more often these days so maybe that was it? One could never really tell when it came to Midorima.

Kise is distracted from his ponderings by a slight vibration. He checks his phone, reads Midorima's curt reply.

"I'm busy, Kise."

Which, had it been from any other person, Kise would have taken as an outright rejection but then, knowing Midorima as well as he did, made his grin grow impossibly wider instead.

"So, your place? 8-ish?" He types back, in reply.

It's almost half an hour later when Kise had already boarded the familiar bus that'd take him to the other's house that he receives Midorima's reply, a bit longer but still matter-of-fact.

"You're not cooking in my house, Kise."

Kise snorts. "Of course not, Midorimacchi. You take care of dinner. I'll bring dessert." And then, just before he taps "send", adds cheekily. "Or I could _be_ the dessert. So, chocolate syrup or whipped cream? (*^3^)/~ "

He barely contains his laughter when, predictably, seconds later, he receives a one-word message from his almost-not quite-whatever it is they were.

"DIE." Midorima sends in capital letters and Kise would've given anything just to see Midorima's face at that very moment.

He gets off the bus at the usual stop, still humming cheerfully to himself, and makes his way to the nearest convenience store.


	3. Name

"Hey, Midorimacchi. Why does _that guy_ get to call you _Shin-chan_ and I don't?"

Midorima gives Kise a thoughtful look over his milkshake. It was Saturday and, for some reason, Saturday meant binge day for Kise and, by extension, Midorima. It also meant having to cram themselves into a corner of a well-packed McD's amidst giggling schoolgirls and rowdy middle schoolers - not exactly the place nor the time Midorima would've preferred to discuss the intricacies (or lack thereof) of his relationship with Kise. He takes a sip, just to buy time. "Well," he says. "It's not like I care what anyone calls me." And then, "You may call me _that_, if you want."

Kise groans, refuses to believe that Midorima could be _this_ dense after all this time.

"But, Midorimacchi! _He_ calls you _Shin-chan_!" Kise emphasizes, almost toppling his own milkshake and Midorima's fries over in his desperation.

Midorima raises a brow, doesn't really understand why Kise would kick up a fuss about such a thing. It's not really something he'd usually have given much thought to but Kise was Kise and he cared about the most ridiculous things at the best of times. Midorima lets out a long-suffering sigh and says, knowing he would regret it later. "Call me whatever you want, then, if it's bothering you so much."

Kise falls silent and averts his eyes, a blush starting to spread (_cutely_, Midorima's brain supplies) across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, and then, in a soft voice Midorima almost misses, he says, "Shintarou… then."

Midorima coughs, a bit embarrassed and, though he wouldn't admit it under pain of death, a bit pleased at how good his name sounds from Kise's lips. "Okay." He acknowledges after a while. "Okay, Ryouta."

Kise looks up in surprise, "What did you..?" Turns an impossible shade of red upon realizing that yes, the eternally impersonable Midorima had just called him _Ryouta_ in the middle of a crowded fastfood joint, rakes a hand through his hair in agitation. "Geez, Shin… Shintarou! Don't do that so suddenly! Damn! This is _so_ embarrassing."

Midorima looks at him strangely. "What do you mean? You've decided to call me by my first name. Given the nature of our relationship," Midorima blushes a bit at the word, "I believe it's only proper that I do the same to you." And then, for emphasis. "Ryouta."

Kise sighs, knowing how one-tracked Midorima's mind could be, doesn't dare imagine just how much of a ruckus this would cause when their friends hear about it. Well, he consoles himself, at least he had not brought up the issue of holding hands instead. He doubts his poor heart would've been able to survive that one.


	4. Hands (Rated: M)

Kise loves Midorima's hands - soft and slender and almost like a _girl's_ yet, at the same time, long and dexterous and strong - catches himself watching as they go about such mundane tasks as writing or eating or playing with that part of their bandages that always comes loose for some reason; wondering how they would _feel_ splayed against Kise's skin, in his hair, against his cheeks; wanting to take those digits into his mouth and _suck_ and _suck_ and _suck_ until he rids himself of this addiction, this shameful, irrational desire to _feel_ those fingers _in_ him in one way or the other.

He hates it, hates it to the very core of his being, every time he sees Midorima's bare hands touching the basketball in as gentle and intimate a caress as they would a lover - hates it and loves it and revels in the exquisite torture of wanting, of wishing, of needing Midorima to touch him (or even _look_ at him) the same way; wonders why he hasn't given up yet, or given _in_, wonders what the other would do when Kise finally musters up the courage or the _insanity_ to corner him against a locker one day and kiss and lick and _worship_ those blessed, godly hands as they deserved to be worshiped.

He is, understandably, surprised when Midorima beats him to it, traps him against the shower room wall one day after practice, attaches his mouth to Kise's neck and proceeds to kiss and lick and _suck_, and it's all Kise could do not to moan wantonly when the other finds the pressure point on the side of his neck.

"Midorimacchi," he manages somehow, in spite of the breathlessness. "What are you..?"

Midorima stills, his breathing harsh and labored, and Kise could feel the beating of his heart - _tha-thump_, _tha-thump_ - hard against his bare chest, trembles as Midorima curses against his neck.

"Damn you, Kise! This is all your fault, tempting me like that every single fucking day!"

Kise is taken aback, shocked at how the usually stoic Midorima was literally falling apart in his arms.

"I've told you so many times to button up your shirt or wear your tie properly but you just have to ignore me every single time… and then I see you look at me with so much _want_, I just can't…" A frustrated sigh. "I am a mere man, Kise."

Kise blinks at the outburst, at the almost, not quite confession he was so sure he'd just imagined; reaches out to place one hand at the back of Midorima's neck, forcing the green-haired man to look up, seeking validation; takes the hand weakly pinning him to the shower room wall in the other, brings it to his lips.

Midorima can only watch in a stupor as Kise nuzzles his hand, placing careful kisses on its palm, looks into confused emeralds, and says, "You know, it's funny you should say that, Midorimacchi." A meaningful smile. "When you must know by now that I've always been tempted by your hands."


	5. Assumptions

It's the stack of what would later be identified as fashion magazines that first catches Kise's attention the moment he sets foots into Midorima's private sanctuary, feeling rather giddy for being able to invite himself over to Midorima's house, and be allowed into the other's room at that; runs a finger over the cover of last month's issue of _Vivi_ at the very top of a considerable number of pastel pink, glossy publications; couldn't help but fire off a snarky comment at how Midorima has developed into quite the idol _otaku_ in the short time that they hadn't been in touch; wonders offhandedly how Midorima actually managed to _not_ get along with Aomine considering their similar interest.

Midorima, for his part, simply rolls his eyes at all of this, doesn't even bother denying what sounded like an accusation, let alone scold the blond for snooping around his room without permission; continues on with his homework hoping that if he ignored Kise long enough, he would go away - not that _that_ ever worked in the three long years he had the fortune, or misfortune, of knowing the guy.

"Ooh, you've got most of the pretty recent ones!" Kise continues his personal commentary, long used to Midorima's impersonation of a wall when it came to his attempts at conversation.

"Wow, these photoshoots are nice!"

"…"

"Hey, look! It's Itano-san! I remember working with her once last year. Do you happen to have a copy of—"

Midorima grits his teeth.

_Endure_, he tells himself. _Ignore the infuriatingly attractive idiot currently making himself at home in your room and all this will end in due time_; clasps his lucky item for the day (a drinking straw, for the curious) tightly, wondering why it didn't seem to be working quite that well.

"Aha! You do have it!" Kise announces triumphantly, almost topples the stack of magazines he had gone through over in his excitement. "This has me and Itano-san on the cover." A pause, and then, "I've always thought Minegishi-chan was your favorite, though."

Kise looks at him expectantly for input and Midorima sighs defeatedly. "I don't really mind either Itano or Minegishi."

"Oshima-san, then? Or maybe Maeda-san's more your type? Or Takahashi-san? Though I don't think you'd go for the—"

"I don't like idols!" Midorima finally snaps, voice unnecessarily loud.

Kise blinks at him. "Then why would you..?

The glare Midorima sends his way is enough to make a lesser man wet his pants, but only manages to make Kise shut up for all of ten seconds before…

"Hey, Midorimacchi! Just noticed that I'm in most, wait, _all_ of these What a coinci…dence."

He hears Midorima curse under his breath and Kise looks up to see what may have been the most unusual expression he's ever seen on Midorima's face, doesn't know what to make of the terrified, deer-in-headlights look and the flush spreading across the other's cheeks and into his ears; only manages to put two and two together when Midorima finally snaps out of it, grabs the offending magazine from Kise's suddenly limp hands, and walks off with an excuse about getting something else to drink than strawberry milk, eyes averted and ears still red, leaving a confused Kise in the middle of his "collection."

"Oh," Kise finally manages after a while, feeling a blush spread across his own cheeks in turn. "_Oh._"


	6. Yellow

Ootsubo Taisuke considered himself a patient, fairly level-headed, mild-tempered person in general, give or take a few incidents involving his hair. Heck, he'd even go as far as saying that he was one of the more… tolerant among the captains in their league, which wasn't really far from the truth knowing the tempers of some (Hyuuga and Kasamatsu), the creepiness of others (Imayoshi) and the borderline homicidal tendencies of a certain first year genius when things weren't going his way. So yeah, Ootsubo considered himself a fairly reasonable, rational kind of guy in the face of adversity, insanity and, most of the time, downright stupidity.

Except, of course, when one Midorima Shintarou was concerned.

Because for all the good having Midorima as an ace has done for Shuutoku, Ootsubo couldn't help but wish some- no, most of the time that they had landed another of the famed Generation of Miracles instead of _that_ guy. Well, granted that he would definitely have drawn the line and thrown in his captaincy towel had it been Akashi that was drafted into their team (more for his personal safety and sanity than to prove a point), but he wouldn't have minded much if they got someone like Murasakibara whom they just had to stuff with sugary goodness to keep satisfied. Or even Aomine - idol magazines cannot be _that_ costly. Or Kuroko, who wouldn't have been much of a presence off court, much less an annoyance. Or, most preferably, Kaijou's ace Kise who, he's heard, was a perfect little _kouhai_… or would've been had he not _sparkled_ too much for his own good. Though, speaking of Kise…

Ootsubo takes a deep breath, then another just to be sure, before unleashing all hell.

"Midorima!"

Midorima simply blinks at him from half court, seemingly unimpressed.

"Yes, Captain?"

Ootsubo has to remind himself to breathe.

"I know you're to be allowed three whims a day - something I've been against since the beginning, mind you - but this… tell me, what the hell is a Kaijou player doing handcuffed to our bench?!"

Midorima frowns a bit. "Well, that's my lucky item," he says matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world and Ootsubo was just particularly slow on the uptake, gesturing in Kise's general direction.

Takao mutters something about Midorima getting _lucky_ alright last night and is met with a glare and a not too discreet kick to the shin.

Kise has the decency to look embarrassed.

"I meant the handcuffs, _not_ Kise," Midorima feels the need to clarify.

"Right… Then please do explain how and why Kise and the bench got involved."

Midorima pauses, as though considering his next words. "Well… I need Kise for it to work."

"Excuse me?"

"The daily morning horoscope said that to amplify the effectiveness of the lucky item, it was recommended that it be attached to something _yellow_."

Ootsubo blinks, anger temporarily forgotten in favor of disbelief at Midorima's logic… because, seriously, wasn't the guy supposed to be ranked first or second in academics?

"So it didn't occur to you to use a yellow _ribbon_ instead? Or an umbrella? Or a freaking rubber duckie?"

Midorima looks genuinely surprised at his suggestion which confirmed Ootsubo's suspicion that no, he definitely had _not_ thought of that.

Ootsubo turns on Kise instead, albeit in a calmer manner.

"And you, Kise-kun? Did you actually agree to this?"

Kise laughs nervously, turns an interesting shade of red. "Well, I did owe Midorimacchi for the pair of glasses I broke yesterday when we were… er… uhm…"

Ootsubo gives up at that, throws his hands up in defeat, reaches for his phone and begins dialing Kasamatsu's number to inform him as to the whereabouts of their missing ace - though he didn't think that "_I'm sorry our ace got it into his head to kidnap your ace and handcuff him to our bench_" was going to cut it; thinks that he definitely got the short end of the Generation of Miracles stick, so to speak, but if it was any consolation, at least Shuutoku didn't get _both_ Midorima _and_ Kise - Ootsubou doubts Midorima's three whims a day would've been enough to cover the absurdity that that would have entailed.


	7. Trains

Midorima hates taking the train, actually appreciates the relative peacefulness of bus rides, would rather walk than find himself more or less squished between random bodies during the evening rush hour, struggling to keep his lucky item for the day satisfactorily unscathed; vows to get his driver's license as soon as he can, preferably before he dies of all the distinct lack of personal space and then some; considers, not for the first time, getting his own apartment just so Kise wouldn't have that particular excuse hanging over his head when he invites Midorima over - not that Midorima wants to actually spend time with Kise, he just could certainly do without all the hellish train rides that would take him from Tokyo to Kawasaki on weekends when the blonde calls and practically _begs_ for his company - because when Kise _begs_, there is very little Midorima could do except grit his teeth and curse himself for not being able to resist.

Which is why he finds himself stuck between a salary man and a hippie on what should've been a relaxing Friday evening, fighting for his life not to get flattened against the train doors in a most undignifying manner - a duffel bag in one hand, a box of dark chocolate chip cupcakes topped with whipped cream in the other - something he just _happened_ to pick up on the way to the station and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they were Kise's favorite from the time when they still actually lived in the same prefecture. And Midorima wonders why in all hells he was going through this just because of Kise when he didn't even _like _the other boy, in the loosest sense of the word.

So it's an agonizing twenty minutes later that finds Midorima on Kawasaki station's platform - a little worse for wear, the box of cupcakes a bit crumpled though Midorima is fairly sure any damage to the pastries themselves was minor, takes in a few deep appreciative breaths of the fresh, uncongested air, before proceeding out of the station; chooses to walk to Kise's apartment as he usually does, just because he doesn't want to seem overly eager by arriving on time or, heavens forbid, _early_.

Kise's apartment is a surprisingly nondescript whitewashed four-level building in the middle of several high-rise condominiums but Midorima has never had any trouble finding it, nods at Kise's landlady - a nice, old woman who just smiles knowingly at him when they meet at the foot of the stairs, casually climbs all three flights to Kise's unit, pauses for about five minutes before convincing him that _now_ wasn't the right time to be having second thoughts about _this_ - not after having done this for the past how many months; not after the dark chocolate cupcakes and Chinese takeout dinners and Kise's belated birthday cake that they had shared over the kitchen counter; definitely _not_ after all he had suffered through just to get here - Friday rush hours and hellish train rides and maybe a little bruising to his pride. So he raises his hand to knock, just at the same time the door swings open to reveal genuinely surprised golden eyes and Midorima just forgets all the reasons this - whatever _this _was - was such a bad idea in the first place.

"I'm here, Kise," he manages to say after a couple of seconds of staring dumbly at each other and Kise simply snorts, ushers him in, one hand reaching for Midorima's duffel bag, the other for his tie, draws Midorima in for a kiss that leaves both of them breathless and flushed and _wanting_.

"You're supposed to say, '_I'm home, Ryouta_,'" Kise says after a heartbeat, an almost, not-quite pout on his kiss-swollen lips. "And I'm supposed to say, '_Welcome home, Shintarou,_' and only _then _do I kiss you senseless."

Midorima allows himself to roll his eyes at that, before extricating himself long enough to close the door. "Well then, '_I'm home, Ryouta_'," he drawls flatly, doesn't give voice to the thought that Kise would never make a good housewife no matter how many times he plays the role, watches an attractive blush spread over the blonde's cheeks, doesn't resist the urge to curl an arm around Kise's waist and kiss _him_ senseless - thinks that yes, everything was definitely worth _this_.


	8. Firsts (Rated:M)

The first time was awkward - all tangled limbs and flustered faces and Kise actually had to tell Midorima _what_ to put _where_ for all the other's cluelessness when it came to intimacy. It had been a particularly nasty summer and Kise had gone to Midorima's house on the pretense of studying the day their home air conditioning broke down. Midorima, for his part, did plan on getting at least half his homework done that afternoon but when Kise arrived in his obscenely tight tank top and loose shorts - well, it was a foregone conclusion that whatever it was that was going to get done then, it definitely _wasn't_ homework.

The second time was traumatizing - at least, for Fujimaki Tadatoshi-_senpai_ who actually had the misfortune of walking in on them in Teikou's locker room one day when he was visiting from a nearby high school. He'd simply blinked at them - once, twice - then closed the door very slowly, whispering over and over, hoping to convince himself, that he did not just see what was happening against Akashi's locker, of all places.

The third time was loud. It was the night before the all-middle quarterfinals and Kise was being such a bouncy, clingy ball of unspent energy that Midorima decided _to hell with it_ and fucked Kise raw against the shower of their shared hotel room. Needless to say, nobody got proper sleep that night and the next day, everyone was tired and grumpy and barely managed to score enough to meet each of their quotas - everyone except Kise, that is, who seemed to sparkle even more than usual to the dismay of his teammates and the delight of his fans.

The fourth time was goodbye, though only one of them knew it at that time. Midorima's parents were gone for the weekend so they had all the time they needed. It had also been the first time Midorima made the first move, catching Kise off-guard with how gentle, how careful, how loving he was with his kisses, his touches that it made Kise want to weep for what he was giving up.

The fifth time never happened, _couldn't_ have happened - after all, wasn't Kise head over heels for his captain, Midorima in an obviously non-platonic relationship with his teammate? So it _wasn't _Midorima who had pushed Kise against the wall behind the _okonomiyaki _restaurant they had gone to after the Shuutoku vs Seirin match. It _wasn't_ Kise who had clung so desperately to Midorima's jacket writhing and moaning and gasping for breath. And it_ wasn't_ Midorima's name that Kise called out when he came, nor was it Kise's lips Midorima had claimed in a possessive, bruising kiss. And it _definitely wasn't _Kise who had practically begged Midorima to take him back.

The sixth time was much like the fourth - Midorima was so gentle and careful and loving that it made Kise want to weep, not because of what he was giving up this time, but because of what he had found in Midorima's eyes when he said, "I love you, Ryouta," for the very first time.


End file.
